


A Light in the Darkness

by Kedreeva



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Injured!Castiel, M/M, Soul Touching, hurt!castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 22:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kedreeva/pseuds/Kedreeva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Commission prompt from Woone5 on Tumblr for the Dashcon SPN Committee fundraising fanfiction auction.<br/>---------<br/>Cas is severely injured and needs to touch Dean's soul to survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Light in the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [woone5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/woone5/gifts).



 

* * *

 

           The crash outside the motel room door is loud enough to wake Dean from the light doze he'd fallen into over Sam's laptop keyboard. Whatever had fallen slammed into the wall beside him, and in the next instant Dean was on his feet, moving for the door with his gun drawn. It was the middle of the night and Sam still hadn't returned from where he was staking out the shifter they had tracked down, leaving Dean alone to deal with whatever it was. He reached out, drew open the door, and took a quick peek.

            He'd meant to duck back inside after he looked, but his brain stalled out at the huge pile of black and bloody feathers slumped outside his door. A streak of crimson lead up to what Dean assumed was a body underneath, as if it had been thrown. As if it had crash landed, he thought, eyes widening as he realized what it was.

            "Cas!" he called out, setting aside the gun in favor of getting Castiel out of the middle of the passageway before the neighbor he heard stirring opened her door.

            The moment he laid hands on Castiel, however, the angel began to shout. There was no reservation in the sound, only sharp, sheer pain and Dean's hands retracted immediately. When the sound dropped to a whimper, Dean heard the clank of the woman two doors down getting ready to find things she really shouldn't be finding. Before he could feel too badly about it, he plunged his hands through the mass of feathers, seeking out Castiel's shoulders so that he could drag him bodily into the motel room. The click of her door opening was lost in Castiel's scream.

            Dumping Castiel unceremoniously on the floor just inside the door, Dean smeared his hand through the angel's blood and then wiped it thickly onto his own pant leg. With a quick glance to his now-quiet friend, Dean dashed back out to the hall just in time to catch the bewildered look on his neighbor's face. He worked up a smile he hoped said nothing was wrong, and made a show of limping.

            "Sorry," he said in a false whisper, like _now_ he was afraid of waking her. "I hit my leg." He lifted the leg he'd smeared in red, and she looked relieved to see it.

            "Do you need any help? I can drive you to the hospital," she offered, glancing over her shoulder to where he was sure her keys lay.

            "Uh, no," Dean told her, waving with one hand. "I- I don't think it's that bad, I can patch it up okay. Just hurts." He forced another smile, and she looked between him and the blood streaking the floor. Just when he thought for sure she would call him on it, she smiled back, and he could see her diving into the lie just as every civilian who didn't want to believe in the supernatural or the bad things of the world was prone to do.

            "Okay, sweetie. But if you change your mind, just come knock."

            "Will do, thank you ma'am," Dean agreed, nodding his thanks before ducking back inside to Castiel.

            He had hoped that his exchange would give Castiel enough time to get upright at least, but he'd made no move what-so-ever to rise from where Dean had deposited him. Dragging his phone from his back pocket, he pressed the speed dial for Sam. His brother's voice crackled through on the second ring. "Dean?"

            "Sam, get back here," Dean told him, already stepping over Castiel to get to their bags. He began pulling salt and chalk from within, ready to lay defenses in the hopes that whatever had done this to Castiel couldn't come finish the job.

            "Dean, what's wrong?" The sound of the car starting in the background filtered through.

            "It's Cas, he just showed up like a train wreck outside the motel." He paused, considering how much weight worrying Sam held against keeping him informed. His eyes slipped over to where Cas lay, as still as death, curled over himself. "He's hurt bad, man."

            Sam murmured some words of encouragement Dean didn't really hear and they hung up. He was already laying salt behind the door, over the sills of the window. The entire time he was drawing devil traps and smearing Enochian blood sigils, Castiel didn't move at all. Dean had to force himself to take it slow and do it right, convince himself not to panic, that this must just be Castiel focusing on healing. By the time he finished, Dean almost believed it.

            Until he heard the gut-wrenching moan from Castiel, saw the way he shuddered, saw the faint glow that seeped out of the wounds.

            Until he realized, bottom dropping out of his stomach, that it wasn't Castiel's _vessel_ that was injured.

            It was _Castiel_ , and he wasn't going to be able to heal himself.

            A moment later found Dean on the floor beside him, one hand raised to begin sorting the injuries, to help him take stock. Before he could even place pressure, Castiel flinched away from contact, curling into himself tighter with a miserable whimper. Dean's chest tightened; he had never seen Castiel so... damaged. So vulnerable.

            "What _happened_?" he breathed.

            "I missed," Castiel croaked, sounding mystified.

            Dean took a moment to parse that, and realized he meant he had missed flying directly into the motel room. Castiel _never_ missed, but Dean knew that this wasn't just a bad landing. He'd never seen Castiel's wings, never seen him be unable to hide them, but he knew they were not supposed to look like this. His left looked like it had been through a meat grinder, bent at far too many angles to be joints, and his right was not much better, still seeping blood and light. There were too many sticky, black feathers to assess his other injuries.

            "Raphael," Castiel continued. It sounded as if even that much hurt. "I... resisted... again."

            Fury flared up in Dean's chest. His _family_ had done this? His _brother_? "What can I do?" He kept his voice loud and clear, hoping it would help get through the haze of pain and shock.

            Painstakingly slow, Castiel shifted so that he was no longer laying on his chest, so that he could face Dean slightly. It appeared to be a gargantuan effort, the groan of pain sticking in Castiel's throat, and when he was done he just lay there, breathing, eyes closed. Dean didn't dare touch him again without permission.

            "Cas, what can I do?" Dean asked again, a little louder, hating the note of fear that wobbled his voice. Cas didn't need to hear that right now.

            Castiel uttered something Dean didn't catch. He leaned closer, asked him to repeat it, and caught the exhausted word. "Touch."

            The lead edge of Castiel's wing slid wetly away from him, clearly not functioning; Cas was dragging it like a dead thing, but it cleared the way to Castiel's arm. When the tension slumped out of his muscles again at the effort, Dean jumped to try to fulfill the request, laying his hand gently on Casitel's forearm. Cas flinched, swallowing a noise of pain, and twitched his hand forward with a soft "no."

            Though it took a moment, Dean realized Castiel hadn't been asking for Dean to touch him, he had been asking to touch Dean. Scooting forward on the floor, Dean slid his hand beneath Castiel's. The angel didn't move, just closed his eyes tightly as if gathering strength. "Cas," Dean murmured, throat closing on the word as the fear that this was a fight Cas wouldn't win crept into his chest. His fingers tightened around Castiel's and the motion seemed to draw him back.

            "Touch," Castiel rasped again. His fingers twitched in Dean's and his gaze wobbled up to Dean's. "Soul." He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes.

            The message wasn't clear, but Dean got it anyway and he wriggled carefully close enough that he could press Castiel's open palm to his belly, just under his sternum. "Okay," he said without hesitation, voice shaky. He had seen Castiel touch a soul, just once. He knew that Castiel had touched his soul, once upon a time. He knew it would hurt, but he also knew that it wouldn't kill him. Or at least, he didn't think it would. "Okay," he repeated, firm this time, as if saying he was ready.

            "Hurt," Castiel breathed, a warning.

            "Just do it," Dean bit out, closing his eyes, and then he felt the weak flex of Castiel's muscles as he more rolled into Dean than pressed in, his fingers moving through flesh and bone right into the core of him.

            If Dean had thought it would hurt, he was wrong. It was _agonizing._ It burned and twisted and pulled at him like he was being quartered and crushed in on himself all at once. Though he thought he clenched his jaw he could hear himself shouting, distantly, detached. The cold, white essence of Castiel raked through him, leaving him breathless, draining him, and he felt every second of the leech.

            But Dean just let him, clinging to Castiel's forearm, holding his physical form in place while allowing his injured Grace to root around in his very soul for the power to mend itself. The matter of seconds felt like days, and then Castiel was withdrawing, his skin slipping under Dean's fingers as Dean released him.

            When Dean opened his eyes, Castiel's wings were gone. There was still blood coating both of them now, but the wounds were closed. Castiel's eyes mirrored Dean's, both clouded over with exhaustion, their chests heaving in tandem as they caught their breath from the necessity of forcing so much unnatural healing.

            "Thank you," Castiel mumbled, and then Dean was slumping forward over him. Castiel gentled the fall with one arm, but he didn't have the reserves left to move either of them; he had taken from Dean only what he absolutely needed to survive. He checked to make sure Dean was breathing, heart beating, before he let his head thunk back against the linoleum. His eyes slid closed.


End file.
